


Quest for Satisfaction

by UltraSwagnus



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Crying, Dom/sub Undertones, Edging, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Suggestive Themes, casual sex talk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2019-11-13 10:53:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18030383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltraSwagnus/pseuds/UltraSwagnus
Summary: Hey, so this is my first attempt at something like this. Hope you enjoy.





	1. Last Call

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so this is my first attempt at something like this. Hope you enjoy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minimus has a problem. Swerve wants to help.

It was getting late, so a decision was made.

“Alright, everyone! Last call!” the stout bartender shouted, both hands cupped around his face for amplification.

Swerve was met with a sea of groans from his late hour patrons. He chuckled.

“Sorry, I don’t make the rules!” he replied to the crowd, quickly realizing what he had said. “Ok, maybe I do,” he corrected, “but there’s always tomorrow,” he assured.

The bar became emptier and emptier within the next few minutes. As soon as he was completely alone, Swerve made his way to lock up. But as he approached the door, it suddenly reopened, causing the small mech to jump in surprise.

It was Minimus.

“Oh,” said the green mech. “I didn’t realize what time it was. My apologies.”

Minimus losing track of time? He must have been working nonstop today, which wouldn’t be all that much of a surprise if it were the case.

“Busy day?” Swerve asked softly.

Minimus didn’t respond, but the sullen look on his face spoke loud enough. Swerve knew something was off. He opened the door wide and gestured inside. After watching hours and hours of earth television programs, he was all too familiar with the “bartender schtick” for when customers came in with heavy hearts.

Noticing the gesture, Minimus perked up. “You’re closed,” he stated. “Working after hours is—”

“My bar, my rules,” the other said with a smile.

The minesweeper was hesitant at first, then slowly walked through the threshold and past the barkeep. Swerve followed close behind, but not before locking the door behind them. He told himself this would be a one time deal. An exception. He wanted nothing more than to spend some quality time by himself back in his room, but being a friend was Swerve’s personal full time job in his own opinion, which was more than enough as an excuse for his spark.

“One weak energon spritzer coming up!” Swerve chimed as he went back behind the counter. He took pride in remembering his customer’s orders and favorite drinks. “It’s all part of the Swerve package,” he’d say. “Customer service at it’s finest.”

“No.”

Swerve, who had already started grabbing for bottles, gave Minimus a puzzled look.

“I would like a regular energon spritzer.”

Swerve let out a small laugh.

“Sheesh! You must have had a really long day if you’re asking for that.”

Minimus let out a deep sigh. Swerve’s visor dimmed as he took an appropriately sized glass and began pouring different liquids. “Wanna talk about it?”

Minimus’ expression changed to something of embarrassment. “I’d rather just have my drink, if you don’t mind.”

“Hey, not a problem! I get it. After a long day, a guy just wants to sit and drink his troubles away in peace.”

Minimus took the freshly made beverage that had been placed in front of him and took a generous sip. He swallowed and immediately knew this was a regular. It was definitely stronger than his preference but luckily for him he was given a small glass. After another sip he could feel himself starting to relaxing. His eyes wandered as he drank, noticing every speck of dirt and grime the bartender would hopefully clean before reopening the next day.

The mustached mech stared into his glass, contemplating whether or not two sips would be enough to justify him opening up about what’s bothering him. Swerve was understanding, right? A good, friendly type of person that might have some decent advice?

There was only one way to find out.

“It’s not about work,” he finally said. If nothing else, he could blame the drink if the conversation went south.

During the silence, Swerve had occupied himself by drying off some glasses he had missed. He turned his attention to Minimus, who continued to stare into his glass. He remained silent and kept drying the dishes, giving the other a chance to speak.

“It’s...personal. It’s about my personal life.”

Swerve tried to think of a joke to say for comic relief purposes, but none came to him. And judging by Minimus’ body language, it probably wouldn’t have helped.  
Minimus looked up at Swerve, who was now giving him his undivided attention. The second in command took another sip before continuing.

“I’m having a difficulty and I thought that perhaps a drink would help.”

Swerve wanted so desperately to give his two cents, but he didn’t have much to work with.

“Well,” the bartender began, “that depends on the problem. Engex can’t solve everything, ya know.”

Minimus gave a half smile. Why couldn’t he just be vague enough to have someone know exactly what he was talking about so he could be spared of feeling ashamed about it?

Another sip. Another brief silence.

“Can engex help someone relax enough to have a decent overload…?” His question sounded more like a confession of guilt than an actual question.

Seeing the green mech’s apparent embarrassment, Swerve decided that maybe some empathy would be best.

“I have that problem sometimes, too,” he admitted shyly. “It’s probably just stress. Happens to the best of us.”

“Do you find that enjex helps?” He hoped that didn’t sound as desperate as it felt.

“Ehh, not really? But then again, everyone is different.” Swerve had finished drying off the assortment of glasses and began stacking them up neatly under the counter. “Different strokes for different folks, if you know what I mean.”

Silence.

“Nothing? Not even a chuckle? Jeez, you must be really pent up.” Swerve was one to talk.

The minesweeper ignored the joke.

“My usual habits haven’t been doing the trick as of late and I’m not sure what else to do.”

“Maybe that’s your problem. You just need to find something new. Something that can really get your motor going..”

“Hm,” was the response.

“I know someone who has a decent collection of porn cartridges if you’re interested.”

Swerve was doing his best to be helpful and supportive, especially knowing what it’s like to have his own difficulties at times.

Minimus cleared his vocalizer. “I’m not a fan of pornography. I find it distracting.”

Distracting? Porn was Swerve’s go-to when he needed a helping hand. Sure, he was into some “weird” stuff, but it usually helped. He wasn’t sure what else to suggest.

“Maybe you just need a toy or something.”

“Or a person,” Minimus thought out loud, immediately feeling his face plating flush at the hearing of his own words.

“Well, yeah. That could work, too.” Swerve replied, feeling his own face growing warm. He himself would love to have another person to release some charge with, but with his work schedule and him being, well, Swerve, the odds were not favorable.

“It would, most likely,” the green mech agreed. “But that would require someone willing to…”

“I gotcha," Swerve began, “but, uh, I’m sure there’s someone on this ship who wouldn’t mind. You know, someone who would want no strings attached?.”

Minimus couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Like who?” he asked rhetorically.

What the hell was Swerve thinking? He couldn’t possibly be thinking about saying his own name, was he? He was, and he shifted uncomfortably as he started to wipe off the counter with a rag.

“Well, I mean, I, uh…” Ah, yes. Embarrassed stuttering. The perfect way to say “I’m horny and lonely and would frag you without hesitation.”

The minesweeper was almost certain he knew what the other was thinking, but doubted his thoughts, wondering if they were just stimming from his desperation and sense of need. He took a small sip. He didn’t really care about the drink anymore at this point.

“Swerve.”

It was now his turn to clear his vocalizer.

“Y-Yeah?”

“Are you...available?”

Swerve couldn’t believe what he had just heard. He took a moment to process what was said to him, making sure he had heard it correctly. And by the sudden feeling of his spike pressing against his inner array cover, he was pretty sure he had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> B)


	2. Guilt and Shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is called "Guilt and Shame" for a reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is shorter than the last one. I hope that's ok.

Tables were not the most comfortable thing to lie on, but that was the price Minimus Ambus was willing to pay to have the climax he was so in need of. Lying on his back, he composed himself to be as calm as his thoughts were. This was for maintenance purposes. This was purely objective. He would get his overload and he would leave, as was agreed upon. No strings attached.

Swerve, on the other hand, was having his nerves racked with a bombardment of thoughts.

_This is really happening. I can’t believe it. Is this a joke? This has got to be a prank or something. I mean, Minimus Ambus asking me to frag him? Or a dream. I must be dreaming. It’s the only real explanation, right?_

“I’m ready.” Minimus said matter-of-factly. His valve ached. It was hungry. Starved, practically. He was surprised that lubricant hadn’t started dripping out of his seams yet.

“R-Right. Ok.”

Minimus moved his hand over his array panel and touched it gingerly, activating the internal mechanism. Metal plating receded, and his valve was exposed and completely at Swerve’s mercy. Serve’s nervous, fidgety mercy. The bartender bit his lip as his optics became fixated on the soaking mess lying in front of him. His hand instinctively went towards his own array cover, allowing his now throbbing spike to spring free.

Swerve wrapped his arms around Minimus’ thighs as he positioned himself closer.

_Ok, Swerve. You can do this. You do this all the time, just not with another person. Same principle. You can do this. Just don’t overload early. Don’t overload early. Please, for the love of Primus, do NOT overload early._

The red mech slowly began to insert himself fully into his partner, causing a plentiful amount of fluid to squeeze out between the friction.

“ _Ooooooh, heck_ ,” Minimus sighed. He immediately drew up his arm and layed it across his now burning face, hoping that Swerve hadn’t heard him say such a vulgar thing.

Luckily for Swerve, he didn’t. He was too busy focusing on the warm, wet velvet surrounding his fully pressurized spike. He began to thrust his hips at a slow, almost loving pace, allowing the valve more time to adjust to his size. What Swerve lacked in length he made up for in girth and texture.

“ _Oh!! Mmmm...!_ ” Swerve hummed. This was so much better than servicing yourself with a pocket valve. He could feel the charge building up inside of himself, and he increased his pace to indulge in the sensation.

“I-Is this good?” he asked between thrusts.

“It’s very nice, but please don’t talk during this.”

Swerve was more than happy to do just that. It would spare him of any opportunity of saying something stupid and ruining things for the both of them.

***

Time went by as the sensors along Swerve’s spike continued to be stimulated. His grip around Minimus’ thighs tightened, mimicking how the minesweeper’s valve was constricting and becoming tense around him. Was he getting close? Swerve hoped so, because his own overload was creeping up on him at an alarming rate.

“ _Swerve...?_ ” Minimus moaned. Just hearing his name being said like that was almost enough to push him over the edge.

“Yeah?” he grunted.

“You don’t have to keep teasing me like this. Insert yourself fully into me. _Please_ ,” he begged.

But...he was. This whole time, Swerve had been penetrating him with the entirety of his length. He—

Oh.

Oh, no.

Oh, no, no, no.

Did Minimus—?

Did he think Swerve was using just the head?

Swerve’s thrusting came to a halt, and he could feel heat rising and resting onto his face. Never in his life had he ever been so mortified. He wanted to die.

Feeling that the friction in his valve had stopped, Minimus raised himself up onto his elbows. Standing before him was Swerve, whose head was lowered in complete and utter shame, and whose spike was depressurizing by the second. As the red mech withdrew himself and revealed his spike, it was made painfully clear to the other what the situation was.

“Oh, Swerve. I’m...I’m sorry, I—”

The green mech was at a loss for words. What do you say to someone after you indirectly tell them to their face that they have a small spike? Nothing. You say nothing. You just sit there while the guy who was fragging you transforms into his alt mode because he’s too humiliated to look at you in the optics.

Minimus’ spark sank in his chest as it filled with guilt. He sat up completely, his valve cover closing in the process. As he slid off the table and left the bar, he tried not to step on the shattered remains of Swerve’s self-esteem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *angsty finger guns*


	3. Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Swerve gets what he deserves.

Swerve waited a few minutes after Minimus had left to transform back. He wondered if he should even bother leaving or just sit there until his axles rusted. He did have a bar to finish cleaning before going back to his suite, so he pulled himself together as best he could and finished what he started.

Finish. Now there was a thought. A thought that screamed in his head. He had been so close he could almost taste the flash of sparks that would have erupted into Minimus’ valve chamber. His disappointed spike pulsed and throbbed, and Swerve could feel a remnant of pre-fluid oozing from the tip. He frowned. Despite what had happened with Minimus, tonight was just going to be the same as any other. Swerve would go to his room, find some good porn, and service himself.

***

Swerve reclined on his berth and scrolled through the personal files on his datapad. He had quite a collection of erotic content saved, so variety was not an issue. But given the main event of today, there was one in particular that he had in mind. It wasn’t a video at all, actually. It was an audio file. One that he only listened to when he was having an especially rough day.

He loaded the file and set the sound to wireless. It made the experience more personal, in his opinion, when the audio was being directly transmitted into his internal auditory receptors. Before he pressed the play icon on the screen, he reached over to the compartment unit next to his berth and rummaged around in the top drawer until he felt the metal box in the back. He took it out and set it on his lap and entered the four digit code on the front panel, waiting for the all too familiar sound of locks snapping open.

He set the now open box to the side and grabbed his pocket valve and the accompanying bottle of personal lubricant. He poured a generous amount on his half-pressurized spike. He shivered as the liquid coated over him. He probably should have warmed some in his hand first, but it was pointless to think about what he should or should not have done.

Like fragging Minimus.

His face scrunched as he mentally waved the thought away. This was not about Minimus. This was about Swerve getting off because he deserved it. A hard day’s work merits an overload.  He put the bottle of lube back into the box and pressed play.

“ _Hey there, big boy_.”

Four little words and the red mech was fully pressurized. That was him. He he was the big boy. He was so, _so_ big. A _big_ mech with a _big_ spike.

“ _Are you going to give me that spike?_ ”

Oh, he was going to give it to you all right. He took the stroker and pushed it over his member, throwing his head back against the wall and sighing as it made its way to the base. The internal texture of the toy was fixed with several nodules of different degrees. Each use was a unique experience, but the results were always the same.

“ _Oh, yes! That feels so good! Keep going!!_ ”

Swerve obeyed the prompts that were being spoken to him through the audio and increased his speed. It did feel good, and his spike agreed, dribbling out pre-fluid into the already lubricated cylinder. He could feel the burning charge of desire building up inside of his lower abdomen. His vocalizer vibrated in his throat with every oooh and aaah.

“ _I’m coming!! I’m coming!!_ ” the audio voice shrieked.

But Swerve wasn’t. He was getting close to his overload, but he wasn’t quite there yet. He needed _that_ audio clip. His spike throbbed as he thought about it. He tossed the stroker into the box and grabbed the data pad with his other hand. He scrolled through the digital list with his thumb until he found _the one_. He gnawed on his bottom lip with anticipation. 

“ _Get on your knees_.” This voice was different. The previous voice had been soft and encouraging. This voice was deep and authoritative. This voice didn’t care that Swerve had self-esteem and body image issues. This voice had only one goal, and that was to make Swerve a complete mess. This was going to be great.

He got on his knees, spike firmly grasped. It took everything in him not to just go to town on himself.

“ _Have you been a good boy today_?” the voice asked.

“Y-Yes,” Swerve answered back. Heat rose to his face as he spoke aloud. He was grateful that no one was around to see him like this. Or hear him, _Primus_.

“ _Maybe I’ll let you overload then_ ,” the voice breathed. Swerve shivered.

“ _Go ahead_ ,” the voice commanded. Without hesitation, the minibot began to manually service himself. His spike felt good in his hand. It had plenty of ridges and sensor nodes that were perfectly stimulated as he stroked himself.

“ _Aaaaah…!”_ Swerve was now at the edge. If he kept going any longer he was going to—

“ _You better not be thinking about overloading, especially without my permission_ ,” the dominant voice warned.

Swerve released his grip and rested clenched fists on his square thighs. He was too close. He knew if he continued for even another few seconds he’d lose it. The voice hadn’t given him permission to stop or overload yet, so he had no choice but to continue. Oh, sweet agony.

The barkeep returned his hand to his swollen spike. He whined as he rubbed the glowing nodes along the shaft. He had to be careful, so he moved at a tortuously slow pace. The sensation was overwhelming, and he could feel his optics begin to fill with optical fluid.

“ _Who’s a good boy_?” the voice asked in a sultry tone.

“I a-am…!”

“ _Come_.”

And he did. _Hard_. His frame heaved as the overload shook through his network. Thick spurts of transfluid shot out of him like a rocket.

“ _AAAAAAAAAAh!!!_ ” he cried out, optics overflowing with tears behind a flaring visor. Swerve leaned forward on his hands and knees and sobbed as the last waves of his climax washed over him.

“ _Good boy_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't look at me....


	4. Lying in Ruins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything comes full circle for Minimus Ambus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm considering this chapter my magnum opus for this work. I'm very pleased with how it turned out (^^)b

There he was, Minimus Ambus, lying on his recharge slab, lamenting in guilt. Knowing how he had made Swerve feel was chewing him up and spitting him out. He didn’t know. He didn’t realize. But that didn’t matter. What was said was said, and he had to make things right. He had to fix this. This was a problem that he had created, and the responsibility of it rested on his shoulders.

Speaking of problems, Minimus still hadn’t overloaded yet.

The minesweeper massaged the space between his optics. He couldn’t decide what was worse, knowing that he had reduced a mech to his alt mode or still having an unsatisfiable ache between his legs. Apologizing to Swerve in a more appropriate manor would have to wait. His valve was demanding attention.

***

Swerve indeed had been a tease to it. It wanted more, and by the way it was creating internal lubricant, Minimus could tell it wanted it right now. He sighed as he spread his legs apart, and without him even touching it, the plating over his valve snapped open.

“ _Pathetic_ ,” he thought, slipping two fingers into himself. His valve was still wet with lust. After a couple of minutes, he realized this wasn’t going anywhere. In his desperation, he thrusted the digits faster. He didn’t know who he was trying to convince more that this would work, his valve or himself. But it wasn’t working, and no amount of ineffective stimulation would prove otherwise. The green mech huffed. It was time to switch tactics.

Retracting his fingers, he moved them towards his outer node, a string of sticky fluid trailing onto himself. He grimaced. As much as he enjoyed self service when the need arose, he could do without the mess. He made himself a mental memo about taking a shower after this was over.

He would need it.

Minimus began with soft circles, familiarizing himself once again with his own touch. Green hips twitched as sensors lit up with each circular motion.

“ _Oh..!”_

Minimus Ambus was a bot of maintenance. Having been the Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord for so long, Minimus was trained that personal leisures were never a priority. However, since joining the Lost Light as Second of Command, he had slowly begun to come out of his shell and reclaim his individuality and acknowledge that his own needs and desires _were_ a priority.

The minesweeper arched his lower linkage. It had been so long since he was able to feel relief like this.

“ _Yes,_ ” he groaned. The sensation was now constant and unceasing, and he knew that he would be climaxing soon if he continued just like this, drawing little circles of ecstacy around one of his most sensitive places. He drew his legs up closer towards himself as he pressed a bit firmer into his outer node. His ventilations hitched as a small stream of fluid leaked out from inside his valve, pooling under his aft.

The green mech’s facial plating flushed as he felt the liquid trickle down between his thighs. He sighed heavily as he clenched his internal valve mesh. He could not recall the last time his frame had been this relaxed. Was it the engex he had earlier that had helped in this? Or maybe it was—

_Swerve._

The thoughts of his encounter at the bar and the hieghtening pleasure circling his node were enough to undo his concentration. Fluid gushed out of him and onto the already stained berth. A switch went off in his brain module. Circles were now obsolete. Frantic rubbing was the new order.

Minimus’ overload came without warning. Mouth agape, optics flaring, valve squirting. The minesweeper’s frame shook. He made no sound. Being stuck in the Magnus Armor taught him how to be quiet. He feared that he would melt as the eruption of hot charge singed his circuitry.

But his overload, despite how sought after it had been all this time, would not be an enjoyable one. Minimus’ thoughts went to Swerve’s face as he had seen earlier at the bar. The look of a broken mech, and then watching the bartender shrivel up and recede inside of his alternate mode. The pleasure died instantly, and his body was reduced to nothing more than a vessel reacting to stimuli. It was like being in the Magnus Armor all over again. The overload, if one could call it that, faded away almost as quick as it had come.

And there he was, Minimus Ambus, lying in ruins next to the shattered remains of Swerve’s self esteem.


	5. Damage Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodimus gives some advice.

Ultra Magnus starred back at his reflection on the datapad that was lying on his desk. He had waited so long that the screen had dimmed to black. He tapped it with a large, armored finger. Like clockwork, the screen illuminated once again, showing him that his memo to Swerve was still empty.

He could create memos during his sleep mode. It was almost second nature at this point. But the Second in Command’s thought processor was drawing blanks. A formal apology was not hard. There was no difficulty involved in it. In his mind he told himself these things, but it was not his mind that was source of the trouble.

It was his spark.

It was Minimus Ambus.

Ultra Magnus had decided that he had wasted enough time. He took the datapad into his hands and began to type.

 

_TO: Swerve, Proprietor of Swerve’s_

 

_FROM: Ultra Magnus, Second in Command of the Lost Light_

 

_DATE: XXXX XXXXX of XXXXXXX_

 

_SUBJECT: In Regards to_

 

In regards to what? In regards to stripping Swerve of his pride as a mech? In regards to the guilt and lack of personal satisfaction? In regards to—

In regards to the sudden knock at the door, apparently.

“You may en—"

Before he could even get the words out, Rodimus already had the door shut behind him.

“Mags, I got a problem.”

“ _Have_ ,” he corrected. “You _have_ a problem, aside from your lack of common courtesy when coming into someone’s office.”

“Yeah, ok. Guilty as charged. Arrest me.”

Ultra Magnus said nothing as the captain sat down in the chair in front of him and crossed one leg over the other, making himself comfortable.

“What’s your problem, Rodimus?”

“My problem is _your_ problem.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Rodimus gave his second a look, then pointed a shiny red finger in his direction.

“Something’s bothering you.”

Ultra Magnus’ optics flashed briefly, confirming the hot rod’s suspicions.

“Ah-ha! See? I knew it.”

“Know what, exactly?" The blue mech challenged.

“Something _is_ bothering you. Your optics did the thing.”

Magnus ignored the remark.

“Thank you for your concern, but I assure you that everything is fine and under control.”

“Oh, really? Because the typo on the memo you sent this morning after our meeting with Megatron says otherwise.”

“Show me.”

Rodimus took out his own datapad, a smaller model, and pulled up the memo. After scrolling a bit, he leaned forward and handed the device to the ex-enforcer.

“See? Right there at the end. You put a space after the last word and _then_ a period.”

He was right, and the error mocked him.

“A simple mistake.” He hoped that the other would take the bait and run with it. He was deep programed to keep personal and professional lives separate, and Rodimus always had a habit of making things more complicated than necessary. No one else needed to be involved in this. This only concerned Swerve and himself.

“You don’t do simple mistakes, Magnus,” the captain retorted.

Ultra Magnus sighed. Perhaps it would be ok if he opened up just a little. Of course, specifics would be redacted.

“Rodimus, what I’m about to tell you is personal, and I cannot stress it to you enough that it remains confidential between the two of us.”

Rodimus nodded.

“I...,” the larger mech paused. He laced his fingers together and drew them towards his face, forcing the pressure onto his elbows on the desktop. “I hurt someone’s feelings.”

Was that it? Was that all he was going to say?

“O _kay_?”

Magnus, averting his gaze, he continued. “I insulted someone on a very personal level and...it was not appropriate.”

“Is this person a friend?”

“I’d like to say so, but given the circumstances I’m not sure anymore, if I’m honest.”

“Well, what did you say?”

Nope. He was not going to tell Rodimus what he said. Absolutely not. Out of the question.

“I’d prefer not to say.”

“Oh, come on. It can’t be that bad,” Rodimus laughed. “It’s not like you said they have a small dick or something.”

Magnus’ spark dropped into his digestion chamber. This was getting too dangerous. Too risky. Too obvious that what Rodimus was trying to play off as a joke was a hardline fact. He didn’t know what to say. But his optics did. They flashed.

“ _Oh_ , my _god_.”

 _Scrap_.

“Are you  _fragging someone?!_ ”

“R-Rodimus…”

Rodimus face lit up. He wanted to know all the details, details that Magnus would never give him. Who was it? How did this even happen? How long had this been going on? Why did he keep this a secret?

But then he started putting pieces together and the light in his eyes became lost.

“Aww, Mags. You didn’t really say that, did you? That they were..small?” he asked with a frown.

“.........Not word for word, no.”

It was too late now. The mechanical cat was out of the bag. But Magnus wouldn’t lie to himself. Having someone else to talk to about an issue like this was a bit of a relief. He could feel his metaphorical shoulders loosening up as the burden he had been carrying decreased in weight.

“I’m trying to apologize via memorandum,” he confessed.

Rodimus scoffed. “That’s way too formal. In fact, whoever it is that you’re involved with, I think it’s safe to say you’re both past formalities.”

“What would you suggest?” the Second in Command asked.

“Just go talk to them in person. It would probably mean more to them than A Formal Apology from Second in Command, Ultra Magnus.”

 

***

 

The door was locked, and the red minibot had begun his after hours cleaning ritual. Glasses were washed, tables were wiped, and now the floor was being swept. Today was good. Good laughs, good customers, the works. He smiled. He was in a fantastic mood, which prompted some whistling.

But his tune came to a halt as the sound of knocking echoed through the empty room. Setting the broom against a booth, the mini approached, unlocked, and began to open the door.

“Sorry. Bar’s clo—”

His sentence was cut short by the mech on the opposite side of the door.

It was Minimus.

“O-Oh. Hey,” Swerve stammered out.

“Swerve, may I come in? I’d like to speak with you.”

Anxiety began flooding into his spark chamber. He had almost forgotten about yesterday, and now it had shown back up on his doorstep.

He hesitated, then stood aside as he opened the door wider.

Minimus entered, bearing his own brand of anxiousness.

“Swerve,” he began, door closing once again behind him. The bartender wasn’t even looking at him. He was staring at the floor, trying not to think about the shattered remains that starred back at him.

Minimus touched Swerve’s arms gently, immediately summoning the other’s attention from the floor. They looked into eachother’s optics for what felt like an eternity.

_“I’m sorry.”_

Swerve smiled awkwardly. “It’s ok. Really. I had forgotten all about that anyway.”

“Well, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I—”

“It’s fine.” the red mech interrupted. “Let’s just move on from this. Sound good?”

Minimus paused for a few seconds, taking time to process his thoughts. If there was one thing he did not want to do again it was to say something incorrectly.

“Is that what you want?” the minesweeper asked.

What was he saying? Was there any point in asking such a rhetorical question? What other possible answer could there be besides an obvious “yes?” Honestly…

“I mean,” Swerve began. “ _Yes_ and _no_.”

Oh. So apparently there was another possible answer.

“I’d like to put this behind us and pretend like it never happened. But I—” He looked away coyly. “I wouldn’t mind a second chance, ya know?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 😏


	6. The Start of a Second Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minimus is a mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I hope you guys like this one because I do. Thank you for your patience ^u^

When Swerve had suggested a second chance, Minimus couldn’t help but initially think that he would be lying back on the table again, but to his surprise his back was reclined into the couch in Swerve’s room. Swerve had insisted that instead of just having a “round 2,” they should hang out for a little bit, iron out some details, and go from there.

It was nice, he thought, to not be sitting behind his desk as Ultra Magnus, or doing any work even as himself. It was a nice break. A nice change of pace. He ex-vented and let his body sink into the sofa. Swerve chuckled.

“I was wondering if you were gonna relax.”

“Despite popular belief, I _am_ capable of doing that on occasion.”

Talking was good. It ended the awkward silence between them. It wasn’t all silent, however. Swerve had an earth sitcom playing, which neither of them were really paying any attention to. Swerve had explained that one of the male and female characters had some unresolved romantic feelings which added to their “we were on a break” trope.

Being Ultra Magnus, he never had the time to be on anything with anyone. But that didn’t mean he didn’t want to be. In the moments that he did have to himself, he would indulge in light, romantic readings. He would never admit to it, but he was a sucker for romance. On especially lonely evenings, he would crave such things like holding hands, or even _kissing_. Poor Minimus. He was so starved for affection.

_What if...what if...Swerve…_

No. This was not a romantic endeavor. This was tying loose ends where strings were still unattached. There was no attachment in this whatsoever.

_But..._

No. Stop thinking about things that will never be.

“So,” Swerve began, breaking the thick silence between them. Minimus adjusted his auditory receptors to the highest setting. “You, uh, wanna makeout or something?"

He was stunned. Absolutely stunned. His mental processor shot different responses back and forth to him, trying to decide which one would be the best to use.

“I...believe that would be a breach in protocol….”

The red mech tilted his head, expressing confusion at the comment. Minimus, being too bashful to explain himself further, turned his focus back to the monitor, and extended his servo to Swerve.

Thankfully for Swerve, he had watched enough cheesy earth-based romantic comedies to recognize this social cue. With a big, goofy grin, he grabbed the minesweeper’s hand and held it.

Minimus felt a strange itch on his face not soon after his hand started to be caressed by Swerve’s thumb. Oh, wait. That’s just a smile.

_Hold on._

Was Minimus _smiling?_

A warmth krept onto his cheek plating. This was just like one of those romance novels he has read so many times before. His spark skipped a cycle as he thought about how Swerve was now scooting over closer to him on the couch. Minimus would normally rebuke an invasion of personal space, but he would give Swerve a pass this time. And he concluded that Ultra Magnus would also give Swerve a pass as well. In fact, everyone aboard the Lost Light would be getting a lifetime supply of passes as long as the little red bot was holding his hand and continued to run the soft, metal padding of his thumb over each knuckle and seam.

***

Swerve’s spark began to swell as each second passed. He hoped this moment would last forever. Sure, being bearings deep inside of Minimus, or any mech for that matter, was also something he wouldn’t mind doing for an extended period of time, but this was...so much more satisfying. Who knew this simple act could bring about such a tenderness out of someone? Swerve knew, and judging by the way Minimus was trying to hide his expression, he knew that Minimus knew as well.

It was taking everything inside of him just to hold the minesweeper’s hand properly. Sometimes having only four fingers wasn’t easy. He was doing his best and hoping that it made all the difference. Which it did. _Oh_ , it _did_.

But the green mech wanted more. Never in his life did he want something that, for the most part, seemed like it would never manifest into a reality. This was his chance. This was his moment. Minimus Ambus was holding hands with someone, and his spark felt like it was going to overload.

“Swerve.”

At the hearing of his own name against the studio recorded laugh tracks being played in the background, the mini stopped caressing the other’s hand, which almost killed Minimus.

“Yeah?” he replied.

“I would…”

Go on, say it. Tell Swerve what you want. You’ve already gotten this far with him and you already know he’d be down for it.

“...like to kiss you.”

The bartender chuckled nervously.

“Really?”

The other nodded, albeit sheepishly.

***

Swerve’s mouth tasted like stale energon, but Minimus did not give a frick. His energon lines were heating up with each passing second. It occurred to him that he was in violation of his own standards for personal space when he realized that he was all but in Swerve’s lap, his hands holding the red mech’s face to his in fear that it would disappear if he were to let go.

Swerve put a servo on Minimus’ thigh as they kissed. The unexpected touch made him gasp, allowing the bartender to sneak his glossa between rows of dentae. Red flags were firing off in Minimus’ brain module.

_This is unhygienic. This is unhygienic. I’m getting aroused. But this is unhygienic. But I don’t think I care. I’m aroused._

And indeed he was. The sensation of two glossa making love in his intake made him afraid that his entire array would snap off. The minesweeper removed one servo from Swerve’s face and moved it over his crotch plating. _He was burning up_.

Minimus’ spike was uncomfortably pressurized and demanded to be released. It rubbed against the internal array plating with a mad jealousy. It too wanted Swerve’s glossa to rub against it and tease it with long, gliding strokes.

What an _obscene_ thought. A thought that made an electric surge go up his back strut, causing him to moan softly into Swerve’s mouth.

He groped at the hot platting has inconspicuously as possible, hoping that doing so would alleviate the ever growing lust between his legs. His endeavors were halted as his digits felt a new texture. He pulled away from Swerve as he quickly realized what it was.

“Everything ok?” Swerve asked, being a little disappointed that his steamy makeout session had been stopped. He looked at the mortified expression on Minimus’ face. His attention went to where the other’s servo was. Minimus’ efforts to hide the mess was futile. Swerve could clearly see the sticky lubricant that has leaked it’s way out of his valve cover’s seams.

Minimus was at a loss for words. If there was something you say to someone when you leak pre-fluid onto someone’s couch because they have made you hot and bothered beyond belief then he certainly was not aware of what it was.

Swerve, not wanting the other to feel embarrassed or self-conscious any longer, grabbed the servo that was covering the wet array and brought it up to his intake. He opened and inserted the digits covered with fluid into it. He ran his glossa over them until they were clean.

_Oh, goodness...!_

Swerve removed Minimus’ fingers with a confident grin, then motioned between the minesweeper’s legs.

“Do you mind if I get the rest of that for you?”


	7. First Time For Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodimus is depressed and Swerve is quite the opposite.

The captain swung open the door with a mighty heave, chest barreled. After he had gauged the room and knew that it was just the two of them, he spoke.

“Rung! I’m depressed.”

The psychiatrist, who was in the middle of cleaning his model ships, jumped at the sudden disruption. He adjusted his glasses back to their original position on his face.

“Yes, Rodimus. Please, come in,” Rung said as inviting as possible. Despite being off duty for the evening, he would never turn anyone down if they needed him. The orange bot led the captain in, but he already knew where to go. Rodimus slumped down onto the metal chaise longue and stretched himself across it as Rung collected the datapad he used for work purposes. He sat in his own chair and opened the captain’s file to begin taking notes as necessary.

Before Rung could even formulate an initial question to ask, Rodimus already had something to say.

“Magnus is getting laid.”

“ _Laid_ ” wasn’t the term Minimus would’ve used, but as of right now, words were the least of his worry. Well, except for two: _Swerve’s mouth_.

Swerve was making good use of his glossa on the glistening array that was presented in front of him. He moved slowly, savoring the taste of the minesweeper’s arousal and the texture of folds and ridges.

Minimus couldn’t help it as his optics rolled in their sockets as he felt the soft, metal appendage plunge deeper between his legs.

“ _OOOh!!_ ”

Involuntarily, hips pressed themselves closer towards the bartender’s intake. Swerve was more than happy to answer the call of the unspoken request and gripped his arms around those gently trembling thighs a little more tightly. He nuzzled his face into Minimus’ open array and continued as if he hadn’t refueled in months.

***

“I just don’t get it. Why wouldn’t he tell me? I thought we were friends, sorta. At least a little.”

Rung nodded as the hot rod pouted through his feelings. Suddenly, Rodimus shot up and looked at the shrink with widened optics.

“What if it’s _Megatron?!_ ”

“Rodimus,” the spectacled bot began. “I’m not here to gossip.”

“Then give me some advice or something.”

Rung decided to take “something” as “food for thought.”

“Perhaps he only wants to keep his personal life personal. If he doesn’t want to disclose it publicly to anyone then he should be respected for choosing to do so.”

“Ok, well how does that help _me_?”

The psychiatrist gave a confused look. “How do you mean?”

“He’s getting laid and I’m not.”

***

“ _Oh, Swerve, oh Swerve, oh, Swerve, oh, Swerve…!!_ ”

Minimus became a broken record as a warm glossa swirled on his outer node. He gripped the back of Swerve’s cowl as best he could without causing any denting or paint chipping. Swerve wouldn’t have cared either way. His confidence was skyrocketing and his ego soared.

He stopped hugging one of Minimus’ thighs with one arm and placed the attached servo onto the upper platting of the array and began tracing additional circles where a spike would be. Ths excited the minesweeper further, and he did not hesitate to retract the plating.

The pressurized spike ascended into Swerve’s four-fingered grip. He gave it a gentle squeeze, eliciting a deep moan from Minimus’ vocalizer. Pre-fluid oozed down the shaft and provided excellent lubrication as the barkeep gave consistent strokes. Combined with the sucking and light nibbling that Swerve was now subjecting onto his node, it was almost too much to handle. The dual sensation was incredible. Amazing, even.

_"Swerve...mmmm....I-I’m...aaaah...very close…..!”_

Hearing those words, Swerve adjusted himself accordingly. He removed his servo from the needy spike and straightened himself up. Minimus Ambus, who had his optics offline immediately turned them back on as the sensations had stopped. Was something wrong? Why did he stop? Please, don’t stop. He needed this. He _wanted_ this.

He watched as the red mech filled his intake with the spike’s length all the way down to the base. Swerve watched Minimus’ optics shine brightly as he pulled back, dragging his glossa up and over small, bio-illuminated nodes on the underside of it. His lips met the head and he sucked gently, drawing out pre-fluid and groans. Returning his hand to stroke, Swerve debated on whether or not he should call himself a ‘sex god.’

The minesweeper was already hot and bothered from the beginning, but the other was pushing him to his upper limits at a quickening pace. He flushed as he felt his internal cooling systems go online. He gripped the mini’s cowl tighter as he bobbed and stoked in unison. Minimus was well aware that he was going to overload soon, and estimated that it would be any minute now. But those minutes were drastically reduced to seconds as Swerve was now taking his other servo and rubbed his thumb over his outer node. It was a light and teasing, and the feeling gave his valve the green light to go ahead and squirt out a few broken streams of fluid.

“O- _Oh!!_ Swerve, _I’m—!!!_ ”

The floodgates opened within Minimus Ambus’ psyche, and his overload came fast and hard. Hot, thick spurts of transfluid shot into the back Swerves intake, where he mentally thanked Primus for the meal. The minesweeper’s network was going haywire. As the climax peaked and slowly began to rock away, his frame went completely limp. He was heavy with ecstasy and his brain module hazy from euphoria.

Swerve scooted back, wiping away remnant of his handiwork from his lips. He was beyond pleased with himself. He wanted to take a picture to remember this moment for years to come. As Minimus lay there in a puddle of his own fluids recovering, the bartender got off of his knee plates and went to go get a towel. Usually when he’d go get a towel it was to clean up his own _mess_ , not someone else’s. But you know what they say. There’s always a first time for everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience!! I hope this chapter was worth the wait orz


	8. Another Second Chance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's really been three whole months since i've updated this. i hope the wait was worth it lmao

Minimus awoke from his impromptu recharge horizontally on Swerve’s couch with a small pillow wedged between the back of his helm and the furniture’s surface. There was also a blanket that had been draped over him.

The minesweeper rubbed his optics and yawned. This was certainly a comfortable setup, but he didn’t remember how he got he—

Ah, yes. Now everything was coming back to his memory processor. He had been eaten out, given the best blowjob of his life, and then promptly passed out from the sensory overload. Not the most dignified way to go, but his frame felt lighter and more refreshed so he chose to overlook that particular detail.

Speaking of details, where was Swerve? The mustached mech looked around the vicinity, only to find a small tray of mini energon cubes and a glass of fuel grade engex. Did Swerve do all this? A rhetorical question. Who else would have set this up? And who else would be making him draw up his hand and place it over his cheek as to hide the grin forming on his faceplate?

_Only Swerve._

Minimus’ feelings of being the luckiest mech in the world faded fast as a sudden realization hit him like a convoy. The hand that had been covering the slight flushing of his cheeks was now grabbing at the semi-coarse fabric and pulling it off of himself. He looked down, expecting to see his array as a stained mess between his thighs. He expected to see panels still open and exposed. But what he expected to see and what he actually saw were two different things. He was spotless. Perfectly polished as if nothing had even happened. His sparked hummed with an unfamiliar warmth.

Where was Swerve. It wasn’t a question any longer. It was a demand of the spark. He rose and set the blanket down upon the metal sofa. It wouldn't be right to just go snooping around someone’s quarters without their permission, so instead he wondered  as to where his robot romeo might be. Perhaps he had left; returned to the bar for some reason or another. Perhaps his absence was a way to emphasize the whole “no strings attached” scenario.

The minesweeper sighed. No strings attached indeed. He had gotten the overload he had originally requested and now he was left alone with these _feelings_. He shook off the emotional uncertainty as best he could and made his way towards the door.

“Hey, you’re awake.”

Minimus turned to see Swerve walking into the room. From the shine on his plating it was apparent that he had been in the back of his suite buffing himself out.

“Swerve,” the green mech started. But what was he going to say? That he was being seduced by some kind of romance that he himself was unsure of if it was real or imagined?

“Listen,” the bartender interrupted, “I just wanted to say thanks for the, uh, second chance. I’d really like for this to end on a good note and not make it weird or awkward, ya know? So let’s just keep this between us or forget this ever happened. A secret, if you will. One that—”

But Minimus didn't want to forget, and he wanted to make sure the minibot was aware of it. Before Swerve could get another word out of his non-stop vocalizer, Minimus Ambus approached him, took his red helm into his hands, and pulled him into a kiss.

Swerve pulled away first, speechless and open-mouthed. For a moment Minimus thought he was going to start talking again, but he only gave a toothy grin. The red mech took his own hand and wrapped them around the other’s waist and leaned back into the kiss.

***

They ended up on the couch again, with Swerve sitting upright and Minimus straddling his lap. Four-fingered hands caressed the minesweeper’s back strut all the way down to his hip joints. He pulled back from their kissing as a shiver went up it. He then looked at the bartender with hungry optics.

“..I want my own second chance,” he sighed.

“Then take it. It’s yours. Whatever you want. Just keep kissing me,” Swerve said, puckering up and waiting for the other to give him more affection.

“I want your spike.”

The puckering stopped. Did he hear that right?

“Come again?”

“I’d like to.”

Before he could even confirm that he wasn’t just hearing things, Minimus had already made a beeline for his neck cables. Swerve’s hands dropped to his sides and he craned his neck to give Minimus as much access as possible. The fuel lines were all about the same size, except for one that was thinner than the rest and was being kissed and sucked on by the handsome mech in his lap.

Swerve bit his lip as his erogenous zone was now being dominated by Minimus’ glossa and dentae. His spike had already began to become pressurized when the kissing had started, but now it was trying to force its way out of his spike housing. He weakly moved his hand over to manually open the plating and the thick spike came forward. Upon hearing the familiar sound, Minimus paused  to send his hand towards his own array and released the modesty panel of his valve. Any and all thoughts about the spike’s size vanished from both mechs as Minimus parted the lips of his valve and lowered himself onto Swerve.

This was different than when he lied upon that table at the bar. This was a different angle, one with better leverage, and it didn't take long before Minimus found the right spot that felt like absolute bliss.

Swerve’s visor was flickering sporadically with each interval of penetration. Damn, did this feel good. His hands found themselves back on the other’s waist as if to guide the valve onto his member. The assistance wasn’t needed, however. Minumus was working that spike for all it was worth inside of him. He could feel the beginnings of an overload igniting as each stroke drew out charges of pleasure.

“ _OH, SWERVE!!_ ” he yelled, picking up the pace of his motions.

“ _I’m gonna come…!!_ ” Swerve shouted back, leaning his helm back against the couch. “ _Aaahh, Minimus!! Mmm ♥ thank you, sir!!! ♥ ♥_ ”

Minimus continued to bounce on the erupting spike until his own overload followed. What he thought were words of praise was just garbled static from his vocalizer as his own fluids mixed with Swerve’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big shout out to anyone who has been waiting patiently for this chapter. burnout is a bitch.
> 
> originally this was suppose to be the last chapter, but the scene i was gonna use didn't make the cut. sooooo i decided that scene would have to be made into a chapter all on it's own. hopefully it won't be another three month wait lol


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